Chapter 3 - Evania
If I had to die doing anything, I decided it would be on my couch, wrapped in my favorite blanket, staring at a screen while two impossibly beautiful people hovered a breath apart.
Twelve episodes.
Twelve.
That was how long it had taken for them to finally stop orbiting each other like emotionally constipated planets and lean in. The music swelled. The lighting softened. Her lips trembled. His jaw tightened like the fate of the world depended on his self-control. They both leaned in.
And then my phone rang.
“Elena,” I muttered, glaring at my sister’s name flashing across the screen. “You have exactly five seconds before I disown you.”
I let it ring twice longer out of spite before answering. “This better be something that couldn’t be said over text,” I said flatly, not even pretending to be pleasant.
“Eva,” Elena breathed dramatically into the phone, like she’d been running for her life. “I need you.”
“You always need me,” I said, eyes flicking back to the paused screen where the almost-kiss hung frozen in time. “Unfortunately for you, I’m busy.”
“With what?” she demanded.
“With art,” I snapped. “Twelve episodes of emotional torture. They’re about to kiss.”
There was a pause. Then a scoff. “Are you watching another K-drama. It’s just a show.”
“It is not just a show,” I said. “It’s character development. It’s yearning. It’s—”
“Eva,” she cut in, ignoring my very valid points, “I need you to come to this party with me.”
I blinked. She could not be serious. “Absolutely not.”
“I haven’t even told you what kind of party it is yet.”
“You said party. That’s already a no.”
“Eva,” she whined, dragging out my name in that way she’d perfected sometime around age twelve. “Please.”
“No.”
“It’s important.”
“So is this kiss. Dare I say it’s more important. It’s nine hours of my life, suspended in time.”
“Eva—”
“No,” I repeated, firmer this time. “I love you, but I’m not putting on real pants, interacting with strangers, and pretending I enjoy loud music when I could be right here watching destiny unfold. So I’m going to do us both a favor and hang up.”
“Don’t you dare-”
I ended the call before she could finish her sentence and immediately hit play, satisfaction settling into my bones. It’s not like she could blame me; she knew better than to call me after I sent a message in my family group chat saying I'd be having a K-drama marathon.
They leaned in even more, just when he was about to lift his hand to frame her face, my phone vibrated. I’m not embarrassed to admit, I screamed into my pillow.
I paused the drama once again and snatched up my phone. “This better not be about the party again,” I groaned.
“Eva,” my sister said, sounding unreasonably cheerful for someone who had just committed a crime. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“There was nothing you could possibly say that would change my mind.”
She snickered. “Your favorite romantasy author is going to be there.”
“Wait, what?” I was sure I had misheard her because there was no way she had said what I thought she did.
“You heard me.”
“You invited me to a party,” I said slowly, enunciating every word as if she might not understand English, “where my favorite romantasy author will be present, and you didn’t think that was important enough to mention?”
“I thought it was implied.”
“It was not implied,” I snapped. “It was omitted. There is a difference.”
She laughed harder. “You would’ve freaked out.”
“I am freaking out now. What’s the difference?”
Her laughter grew louder. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
“An hour?” I screeched.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“I am dramatic. You know this about me.”
“Love you,” she said sweetly, already pulling away from the conversation. “Be ready when I get there.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone for a full three seconds before jumping out of bed. I stood in front of my floor-length mirror, trying my best to map out my next steps. I ran a hand down my bonnet, then froze.
I’d showered less than two hours ago.
Relief washed over me so hard I had to sit down. This was clearly a blessing that I couldn’t waste. I was freshly bathed, moisturized, and only mildly spiraling. Okay. The crisis was downgraded from catastrophic to almost manageable.
I crossed the room, flinging open my closet door with purpose. This was not the time for indecision. I needed something cute but effortless. Something that said I didn’t try too hard, while I had absolutely tried very hard.
My eyes landed on the black sweater dress Elena had gotten me for Christmas.
It was perfect. The fabric was soft, hugging in all the right places without clinging, the neckline modest but flattering.
It was the kind of dress that made me feel like the main character in a cozy-but-sexy small town romance.
I slipped it on and studied myself in the mirror.
With fifty minutes left, I grabbed my makeup bag and settled at my vanity.
As I applied foundation, my thoughts spiraled anyway.
What if I said something stupid? What if I quoted their book wrong?
What if they hated small talk? What if they were one of those authors who secretly judged readers who loved a specific character too much?
I blended my concealer with a little more aggression than necessary.
“Relax,” I muttered to my reflection. “You are a somewhat functioning adult. You’ll be fine.”
My reflection looked unconvinced.
I softened my eyes with warm browns, added a touch of shimmer because it was a special occasion, and carefully lined my lips. Half an hour passed in a blur of brushes and internal pep talks.
With ten minutes to spare, I reached for my favorite Latisha wig.
The moment I placed it on my head, something in me settled. Latisha was confident. Latisha had soft curls and perfectly laid edges. Latisha was the version of me who could walk into a room without immediately looking for the nearest exit.
I adjusted the curls, touched up my edges, and smiled. Now I was ready. The doorbell rang exactly on time.
I grabbed my purse and special editions, took one last look in the mirror, and nodded. "You’ve got this."
When I opened the door, Elena stood there grinning, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.
“This must be a personal record,” she said. “You’re ready on time.”
“Don’t,” I warned, already smiling. “This is the best I could do on such short notice.”
She stepped aside so I could lock the door behind me. “You look amazing. See? Trust your big sister.”
I snorted. “You thrive on chaos, while looking beautiful doing it.”
She winked. “That’s what I like to hear.”
We headed toward her car and that’s when she noticed my bag with the books. She blinked. Slowly.
“Oh,” she said. “You... brought books.”
I hugged the bag closer to my chest. “Of course I did.”
She tilted her head. “You won’t need them.”
I frowned. “I will absolutely need them.”
“You really won’t,” she insisted, as she drove out of the parking lot. “Just trust me.”
I’m sure she thought I would let it go by now, but I was only getting more suspicious of her words. “Why are you being weird?”
She glanced at me before turning left. “I’m not being weird. I just... think tonight is going to surprise you.”
“That’s not comforting.”
She smiled. “It’s exciting.”
I slipped my boots on, still suspicious. “You said it was a party.”
“I did.”
“And my favorite romantasy author is going to be there.”
“Yes.”
“So why wouldn’t I need my books?”
She patted my arm, keeping her eyes on the road. “Just trust me.”
The drive was much shorter than I expected, filled with my own spiraling thoughts. I wasn’t sure why Elena was acting so weird, but as long as she wasn’t lying about one of my favorite authors being there, I’d be fine with anything. I even practiced what I’d say if I got the chance to speak to her.
We pulled into a parking lot glowing with warm lights, and the building ahead of us was surprisingly not crowded like I thought it would be. I reluctantly left my books inside the car, choosing to trust her since she brought me here.
Inside, the air was rich with that unmistakable scent of paper and something sweet—vanilla, maybe. Fairy lights draped across tables stacked high with books, and a banner hung behind a small stage announcing the event in elegant lettering.
I felt like I’d stepped into a dream.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, when it finally clicked that this was a book signing more than a party. “Elena.”
She watched my face, clearly pleased. “You happy?”
“Yes.” My voice caught. “You know I am. But I don’t get it. This is clearly a book signing, so why wouldn’t I need my books?”
She sighed, dramatic and drawn out. “Okay. Fine. I was going to wait, but you’re going to figure it out anyway.”
My heart thudded. “Figure what out?”
She leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “She’s giving out signed copies of her new book.”
My breath hitched. “Her new book? It isn’t out yet.”
“I know,” Elena said, eyes sparkling. “But she’s giving away a few physical copies tonight.”
My hand reached out and grabbed hers. “Before release?”
Elena nodded. “Before release.”
My knees actually went weak. I had to shift my weight to keep from swaying. “How long have you known about this?”
“For a week,” she admitted.
“A week,” I repeated faintly.
She winced. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
I laughed, a breathless, disbelieving sound. “You’re evil.”
“And generous,” she added. “Don’t forget generous.”
I shook my head, smiling slightly. “I can’t believe this.”
“I can,” Elena said. “You deserve it.”
The line moved, and I floated with it, barely aware of my surroundings. My mind raced ahead to the feel of new pages, the smell of fresh ink, the weight of a story no one else had yet.
That's when I saw him.
Across the room, near one of the display tables, stood a man who didn’t belong to the soft, cozy warmth of the space. He was tall, dark-haired, his presence sharp enough to cut through the gentle buzz of conversation.
My breath caught.
I recognized him instantly, even from afar.
The mystery man from the café.